


came so freely

by sunsmasher



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Lesbian AU, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 16:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsmasher/pseuds/sunsmasher
Summary: "Get in here or I’m giving your eggs to the dogs!” Laurence shouts from the kitchen, with the tile cold beneath her feet and said dogs squirming plaintively between her stubbly legs.There’s a groan, and a thump, and then another, closer groan from the door behind Laurence. “Like you’d feed them anything that cheap,” mutters Damia.





	came so freely

"Get in here or I’m giving your eggs to the dogs!” Laurence shouts from the kitchen, with the tile cold beneath her feet and said dogs squirming plaintively between her stubbly legs.  
  
There’s a groan, and a thump, and then another, closer groan from the door behind Laurence. “Like you’d feed them anything that cheap,” mutters Damia.  
  
“High talk from the queen of the fifteen dollar bagel herself,” Laurence replies, turning, pan in hand.  
  
“You—“ Damia says, and then stops. Her dark eyes are oddly wide, the rising light from the bedroom picking through her hair in little spots of gold  
  
“What,” says Laurence. A dog whines.  
  
“You’re not wearing any makeup,” Damia replies. She’s leaning hard against the doorframe.  
  
Laurence’s nose threatens to wrinkle. “It’s 7:00 AM,” she says. “I haven’t even put on toner yet. Or moisturized.”  
  
“You look really good,” Damia says. It’s like she hasn’t heard Laurence at all. She’s staring in that full-body way Laurence has never seen replicated— like the act of looking requires every muscle, every synapse she’s got.    
  
“…I barely have eyebrows,” Laurence says. One of the eggs is threatening to slide from the pan. Both dogs are whining now. Laurence should maybe do something about that.  
  
She hadn’t realized Damia had never seen her barefaced. She normally rose first, yes, and putting on the makeup was something she almost enjoyed after this many years, the quiet of her and the mirror and the brush, but she hadn’t consciously avoided this, she didn’t—  
  
“Do you like me more like this?” She surprises herself with the question, in a way that makes her freeze a little, instinctively.  
  
Damia doesn’t notice. “I like you always,” she says, stepping into the kitchen. “However you want me to see you. I like— I like getting to see you like this. In the mornings, in my shirt, with eggs.”  
  
“Without eyebrows,” Laurence adds. Damia has stepped amazingly close to her, is looking down at her with this soft smile that Laurence refuses to think too deeply about.  
  
“With your very pale and lovely eyebrows,” Damia replies. “Put the pan down.”  
  
Laurence hadn’t realized she was still holding it. She drops it to the breakfast table, where the dogs will absolutely get at it, and lets Damia take her face in two warm hands. She lets Damia kiss her pale and lovely eyebrows, and her bare cheeks, and the rough skin of her forehead, and she lets Damia kiss her chapped lips, and then she kisses Damia back.   
  
The sun rises. The dogs eat the eggs. They’ll make more eggs.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to twitter @[lambergeier](http://twitter.com/lambergeier) , where I enjoy being gay


End file.
